


Peaceful phantom

by Dany_le_fou



Category: Claymore (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Comfort No Hurt, F/M, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:40:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24089032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dany_le_fou/pseuds/Dany_le_fou
Summary: The battle is over, but Miria can't rest just yet. Can one human give her the peace she seeks?
Kudos: 2





	Peaceful phantom

**Disclaimer** : I don't own Claymore

()()()()

It had been a long, exhausting day, Miria reflected as she walked through the rocky area a short distance away from the victorious rebels' camp. The warriors' revolt had turned into an all-out war for their lives with the inclusion of the three Abyssal-level Awakened, but ultimately, they'd survived - mostly due to the three monsters turning on each other. Her plan to lure Hysteria into the battle between Roxanne and Cassandra had seemingly failed at first, as they took no interest in the smaller Awakened. However Hysteria, hating being ignored, immediately saw this as an insult and made her presence known to the pair, causing the battle to degenerate into a three-way slaughter. Staff had been wiped off the map as a result, and the battered Claymores managed to slip away unnoticed, and finally regroup.

A quick reorganizing and plenty of patching up had been needed, but now there was time to rest and heal. As the unspoken leader though, Miria couldn't lay down just yet. Even after taking the first shift in guard duty, she still had something, or rather someone to check on.

"Shouldn't you be asleep by now?" a male voice asked from her right, almost startling her, and she saw her target sitting on a piece of rubble, a sword planted into the ground within arm's reach.

Miria stood in front of the man, noticing that even sitting down he was nearly as tall as her. She knew that if he was standing, he would dwarf her by at least five inches; a far cry from the child whose head barely reached Clare's shoulders.

"I'm fine." Miria replied tersely, which caused Raki to shake his head.

"Miria, I've heard you've been fighting all day. Not only that, you've suffered possibly the gravest injuries and went over your limit during that fight. Even without knowing that, I can tell you're exhausted right now." Raki's voice scolded gently, not patronizing, just expressing concern.

Miria raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest. "And how can you tell?" she asked calmly, not showing whether he was right or wrong.

He grinned at her, slight amusement in his eyes. "The very nice black eye Deneve gave you. If it hasn't begun to fade yet, it shows your body can't spare the energy to heal even a single bruise." Seeing her flinch, his tone turned serious. "I can understand not wanting to show weakness, but at least sit down a moment."

As he said this, he moved sideways a little so Miria could join him while keeping a comfortable distance away. Sighing in defeat and slight annoyance at his perceptiveness, the warrior complied.

"You know, I would be asleep by now if I hadn't needed to look for you." she grumbled.

"Sorry about that, I needed to think for a while." Raki looked at the starry sky, reminiscing what Deneve had told him about Clare, the strange woman who had attacked them, and what the vengeful Claymore had to do just to contain her. A pang of guilt hit him as it was easy to connect the dots. He didn't know the whys, but he could guess who this person was. Memories of the sweet, childlike girl he had spent years with conflicted with the aloof, calculative woman who had left him. Had he known the real Priscilla? Had their friendship been a lie? Or did her small act of mercy show she still cared about him in a twisted way? And what about Clare? Where did that leave him if he couldn't even see her again?

Feeling Miria's silver eyes on him, he tried to lighten the mood. After all, she had enough on her plate already, no need to add his worries to hers. At least here and now, he could be useful. "Also, I was feeling a bit out of place to be honest."

"As the only human among hybrids?"

"Nope. As the only guy among a bunch of attractive ladies." he grinned but Miria didn't share his humor and lowered her eyes.

"Raki, you've helped tend to the wounded. You've seen our bodies. I'm thankful you took it so well but…"

"Hey, what kind of friend would I be if I turned my back to you because of that?" he cut her sharply, his eyes narrowing in anger at the memory of Clare's bandaged form in Rabona. He would have a few words with Father Vincent next time he saw the old priest.

Miria's head jerked back to him in surprise at his admission of friendship, as he barely knew her all things considered, and her silver eyes widened slightly. She was so surprised, in fact, that she didn't see him getting closer until she felt a feather-light touch on her face and she realized his fingers were gently tracing the large x-shaped scar there. Due to her grievous injuries back then, Miria had not taken the time to heal the more cosmetic damage. Now that it was ingrained into her body's memory, it was unlikely she ever could, barring fully Awakening.

"It's not different from this one. It just shows how much you, all of you, lost for humans' sake, and the pain you went through." His voice softened, expressing deep compassion and, to Miria's surprise, respect. "You shouldn't be alienated because of it."

Raki meant every word, even knowing the difference. While this particular scar gave Miria a more intimidating look, it wasn't disfiguring. What Claymores had on their chest was far, far worse.

Every warrior baring these stigmata was bad enough to him. But doing this to _children_ … At the moment, he bitterly regretted going easy on those handlers when he protected the trainees. He _almost_ wished they and the Organization's leaders had not died when Roxanne had flung Cassandra's gigantic form into the mountain, just so he could have fed them to a Yoma, slowly and painfully.

Raki's hand moved from her face, and Miria's mind was left reeling, unable to believe that he had so casually _touched_ her. Despite how intimate the action had been and the breech of her personal space however, the warrior could not find it in herself to be offended. The young man's fingers had been amazingly warm and caring rather than intrusive, and so _right_ , almost like he was soothing her very soul rather than touching her body.

Trying to hide how flustered she was, Miria quipped, "Do you always use such corny lines?"

"Hey! I put a lot of thoughts in those lines." he protested good-naturedly.

Not for the first time since the end of the battle, Miria was glad for Raki's presence. From what the trainees had told her, as well as the broken, battered bodies of the Organization's men she had seen, the little ones could not have been in better hands. Heck, she could have sworn she saw the beginnings of some hero worship here, and the twins seemed oddly protective of him.

Also an extra valid pair of arms had been a tremendous help in preventing fatalities after the battle. While there isn't much you can do to heal an injured Claymore, just stopping the bleeding could easily mean the difference between life and death. Sometimes Miria wondered if more warriors would have survived in Pieta if someone had been there to give some first aid.

And now, he ended up comforting her without trying when she had been the one who checked on him.

So the only fitting thing she could say was a simple, but heartfelt "Thank you." She wasn't sure if she meant those words from all of them or just from her, but the mere presence of someone who cared was a godsend to all the lonely hybrids, even those who didn't show it.

Sure, she, Helen and Deneve had been surprised when the unknown male prisoner had called them by name immediately. But their surprise had turned to shock when a few warriors recognized the human who inquired about the former Forty-seventh warrior, leaving no doubt about his identity.

Honestly, what were the odds? It was like a higher power had decided his fate would be tied to Claymores.

Now that she thought about it, she wondered if Helen was over her initial shock yet.

()()()()

"… Short scrawny clingy kid…" Helen mumbled over and over again, her unblinking eyes glazed over. Around her, a group of trainees were poking her with sticks, trying to get a reaction. "… Short scrawny clingy kid…"

()()()()

'I think he broke her.' Miria thought in amusement. 'Then again, I can understand her.' she admitted as she once again took in the changes.

However impressive Raki's physical changes were though, Miria was more struck by the feeling he gave off. While she herself was considered a natural leader, someone who drew people due to her charisma and whose decisions could be trusted, Raki was different. People didn't trust his decisions, they trusted _him_. He was simply someone around whom you knew you could lower you guard without fear of being hurt or rejected, no matter who or even what you were. Maybe this was why the twins had been so ready to trust him. Miria could put it in words, but he felt…

'…Safe.' Miria thought to herself even as she felt herself relaxing of her own volition. The lingering pain of injuries seemed to fade and the permanent tension slowly left her muscles. Worries she didn't know she had didn't weight as heavily either. Right now, in this comfortable silence and almost intimate closeness, she allowed herself to stop being the fearless Phantom or the reliable Captain, and just be Miria.

She noticed that Raki had not moved away to restore the original distance between them. Neither had she. It didn't matter. It felt right somehow, and she was so tired. She could feel the warmth of his body permeating her like a blanket and leaned closer. Maybe she could close her eyes for a moment…

Raki was startled by the sudden weight on his right shoulder. But seeing the sleeping Miria using him as a pillow, her scarred yet beautiful face at peace for the first time in many years, he could only smile.


End file.
